


Eavesdropping

by tastewithouttalent



Category: ACCA13区監察課 | ACCA 13-ku Kansatsuka
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, No Plot/Plotless, Overhearing Sex, Phone Calls & Telephones, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-09 14:18:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11106309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: "'Okay,' Rail says. 'Should I call back later?' There’s the briefest of pauses, a hesitation that speaks volumes given how rarely Magie hesitates over anything. 'No,' he says, finally, as if his momentary pause didn’t exist at all. 'Just stay on the line, if you don’t mind.'" Prince Schwan interrupts Magie's conversation but Rail finishes the call anyway.





	Eavesdropping

“You really should come visit again soon,” Rail says, bracing the receiver of his phone between his head and shoulder as he spreads butter across the slice of bread in his hand. “The bakery has been experimenting with some imported spices and they have this new recipe that’s _incredible_.”

“ _I’ll see what I can do._ ” Magie’s voice is faintly echoey on the other end of the line, as if it’s being altered slightly by the miles of distance between his location and Rail’s, but his words are as clear as the careful precision of his tone, the not-quite haughty politeness of his typical speech. Rail takes a bite of the bread, thinking vaguely about the effect of a life in a palace without any kind of more ordinary interaction and wondering what Magie would be like if he had grown up in a home like Rail’s own instead of as the aide to the crown prince. “ _His Highness has decided he dislikes travel at present_.”

“‘At present’?” Rail echoes back around a mouthful of the soft-sweet bread. He chews and swallows with more haste than the flavor of the bread really deserves so he can respond with more clarity. “Wasn’t he all excited about touring the districts just a few days ago?”

“ _That was a few days ago_.” Magie’s tone is scrupulously proper, without a hint of judgment anywhere on the words, but Rail’s had enough experience with the other to know exactly how cutting Magie’s deliberate accuracy can be. “ _He has recently had a change of heart_.”

Rail rolls his eyes towards the ceiling. “Does he want a new travelling outfit or something?”

“ _His Highness has many immediate concerns weighing on his mind_ ,” Magie says with that same rigid precision. “ _He especially wishes to ensure he’s presenting a consistent image to his future subjects_.”

“How soon will the tailors have something ready?”

“ _Within the month, I expect_.”

“Good.” Rail takes another bite of bread, pausing to savour the creamy taste of the butter and the sweet of the bread on his tongue before he swallows and takes a breath to go on speaking. “If you can make it here before--”

“ _Wait_ ,” Magie says, speaking sharply to cut off Rail’s words. “ _Hang on_.” There’s a breath of silence, quiet unbroken by Rail or Magie either one; and then the slam of a door, a far-off shout through the static of the line, and Magie huffs a sigh that’s very nearly a groan of frustration against the receiver.

“ _His Highness is back_ ,” he says. “ _I need to deal with him_.”

“Okay,” Rail says. “Should I call back later?”

There’s the briefest of pauses, a hesitation that speaks volumes given how rarely Magie hesitates over anything. “ _No_ ,” he says finally, with as much decisiveness as he generally brings to such things, as if his momentary pause didn’t exist at all. “ _I don’t know how long he’ll need me. Just stay on the line, if you don’t mind_.”

Rail shrugs. “Sure.” He takes another bite of bread and leans sideways to rest his weight against the edge of the counter next to him. “Good luck.”

“ _Thanks_ ” and there’s a _click_ against the receiver, the soft sound of the phone being set carefully aside before Rail hears Magie move away across the room with the click of his boots on the floor to mark his exit. For a moment he can’t hear much of anything, just the echo of far-off shouts and the scuff of footsteps, approaching or retreating he can’t say; and then there’s the squeak of a door opening, the sound of Magie’s voice at a great distance, and louder, carrying clear on an edge of petulance, “ _Magie!_ ” in what is unmistakably the crown prince’s voice. “ _I’ve been calling for you, didn’t you_ hear _me?_ ” A muffled sound, Magie’s voice recognizable as his own but knocked out of coherence by the effect of distance and low volume; and then, almost atop him, “ _I don’t care what you were doing_ ,” with disregard so casual and certain that Rail can almost picture the hand waving through the air to brush Magie’s words aside. “ _When I call for you you ought to answer immediately! You are my aide, aren’t you?_ ”

Rail rolls his eyes again. He’s always impressed by Magie’s patience with Prince Schwan, the more so when he gets these sort of indications of how the royal heir behaves as a general rule; it seems like dealing with a spoiled child allowed to grow far older than he ought before being taught manners. Rail amuses himself briefly with imagining the kind of treatment Schwan would face as a more common citizen, of how shocked and upset he would be at the lack of consideration for his petulant demands. It would be pleasant to see, Rail thinks, satisfying on some level to see someone so high brought down to the level of everyone else around him; to say nothing of the relief it would give Magie, after what must be years of catering to whatever irrational demand Schwan decides to make with each new day.

“ _I do apologize_ ,” Magie is saying now, his voice coming faint but clear on the other end of the phone. He must have stepped in closer; Rail can hear the deliberate clarity of the other’s tone, now, from how much nearer to the open receiver he is. “ _Might I make amends to you, Your Highness?_ ”

Schwan huffs an exhale, managing to make it sound petulant even over the static of the phone he doesn’t know is picking him up. “ _Obviously. Why do you think I came looking for you in the first place?_ ”

“ _Very good, Your Highness_ ,” Magie says, without any trace of the frustration Rail would feel in the same circumstance, without even the cool distance he usually adopts when he’s irritated. He sounds very nearly amused, in actual fact, which leaves Rail frowning unseeing at the wall in front of him while he wonders how long it’s going to take Magie to get rid of the prince and return to their conversation.

There’s a long pause. Rail can’t hear any speech at all on the other end of the line; he wonders if Magie and the prince really have stopped talking, or if they’ve just lowered their voices to such a range that the open receiver of the phone isn’t picking them up anymore. Maybe they’ve left the room entirely; Rail wonders if he should hang up and wait for Magie to call him back after all. But he didn’t hear the sound of the door closing, as he did when Prince Schwan came in, and Magie did ask him to wait; and then he hears a faint sound, a noise soft but clearly Schwan’s voice, and that confirms that they’re still in the room, at least. Rail reaches for his bread again, idly thinking of at least finishing his snack while he waits for Magie to return to the call; and then there’s a sound on the other end of the line, a low moan of heat as obvious as Schwan’s voice was a moment before, and Rail’s hand stalls halfway to his mouth with the force of the shock that hits him.

There’s no way he heard what he thought he heard. That’s the first coherent thought he has, as he stares wide-eyed at the wall of his home with the phone pressed close against his ear. It was his imagination, maybe, or just an accidental sound that morphed into something more suggestive over the distance and the effect of static; surely there’s no way he heard the crown prince moaning in pleasure on the other end of the open line. Rail sets the bread back down, lifts his shaky hand to wipe against the back of his mouth; and then he hears it again, louder and clearer this time, and this time there’s no way to mistake that “ _Magie_ ” as anything other than overhot arousal.

Rail grabs at the edge of the table, his fingers splaying wide to brace himself still as he clutches against the phone at his ear. He should hang up, _absolutely_ he should hang up, there is no way he was meant to hear this; but his imagination is flaring to heat in spite of himself, the visual in his mind unfolding entirely unasked-for detail. He can only hear Schwan’s reactions on the other end of the line, can only catch the gust of the other’s breathing when it drags around the strain of arousal in him; Magie is wholly silent, as if he’s absent or, perhaps, rendered unable to speak by his current situation. The image that presents is all too clear: Magie on his knees in front of Prince Schwan, his hands bracing at the prince’s hips and his mouth open for Schwan to -- and Rail’s breath rushes out of him in a gust of sound too strong for him to try to catch back as his whole body goes hot at once.

He can’t make himself hang up. The image is too clear, his curiosity too strong; he wants to know if he’s right in his interpretation, wants to know if that really is what the prince meant when he came in demanding Magie’s attention. And he wants to know if Magie remembers the open phone line, if his skin is going as hot with the awareness that Rail can hear every moan in Schwan’s throat as Rail’s own is. It’s like a secret, like Magie has pressed Rail back into a dark alcove and weighted a finger to his lips to hold him silent, as if Magie’s eyes are fixed on Rail to hold him still while Schwan chases down his own pleasure all unknowing of his uninvited audience. It’s wrong, Rail knows, it’s indecent and illicit on a whole host of levels; and he can’t put the phone down, can’t break off the connection between him and the pant of Schwan’s breathing going hotter and coming harder in the other room so far distant. Schwan’s making no effort at all to be quiet; Rail can hear the rise of the prince’s pleasure in the voice he gives his moans, can all but track the pace of his thrusts into Magie’s open mouth by the catch of panting inhales the other is taking. He can imagine Schwan’s hands fisted in Magie’s hair to hold the other steady, can picture the smooth lines of the prince’s clothes undone and open to spill his cock free from the fabric, to let him press forward and past Magie’s lips and down the other’s throat; and Rail gusts an exhale that goes unheard by any but himself, and lifts his hand from the table to press against the straining front of his pants instead.

Schwan doesn’t last long. Rail has only just gotten the weight of his palm against his fly, has only just started to grind relief in against himself, when he hears the drag of Schwan’s breathing coming hard into his lungs and the whine of the other’s voice breaking shrill on heat. There’s a gasp of sound, “ _Magie!_ ” delivered with all the tone of an order and all the wail of a moan; and then Schwan groans, his voice dropping out of tension and into the heavy dark of relief, and Rail gasps a breath to fill his lungs as he listens to the crown prince coming on the other end of the phone pressed to his ear.

Rail’s heart is racing by the time he hears Magie speak again. He can’t tell if the other remembers the phone left off the hook, can’t tell if Schwan has or will notice; he’s still not sure he was meant to hear any of that, not sure he hasn’t stumbled onto a detail of Schwan and Magie’s relationship that was meant to remain a secret. But he’s still listening anyway, in spite of all his uncertainty, and then Magie says, in a perfectly cool tone: “ _Is it my turn now, your highness?_ ” and Rail’s whole body goes instantly hot against the weight of his clothes.

Schwan’s sigh is loud and put-upon. “ _I suppose_ ,” he allows. “ _Though I could just make use of you and leave you if I wished_.”

“ _Of course_ ,” Magie says. “ _Come over here_.”

“ _What?_ ” Schwan asks. There’s the sound of footsteps, a pair of them falling almost atop each other; Schwan’s voice is louder when he speaks next. “ _Why?_ ”

“ _We’re farther from the door here_ ,” Magie says, and it’s then that Rail is absolutely sure that whatever Schwan may or may not know Magie, at least, hasn’t at all forgotten about the phone left off the hook. “ _If someone comes in we’ll have more time to compose ourselves_.”

“ _That’s silly_ ,” Schwan says. He’s so close Rail can hear his voice with absolute clarity, as if the other were standing mere inches from his ear. “ _I’m the prince, I can do whatever I want. Who’s going to tell me otherwise?_ ”

“ _No one_ ,” Magie agrees without any hesitation or any shift in the calm flat of his voice. “ _I just thought you might not want one of the staff to come in and find you getting fucked by your aide_.” Rail’s breathing rushes out of him like he’s been punched, the sound terrifyingly audible to his own ears; but Magie keeps talking as if he hasn’t heard the sound, as maybe he hasn’t at all. “ _Then again, if you don’t mind, by all means let’s return to the main space_.”

There’s a pause. Then, in a whine more petulant than truly protesting, “ _I ought to just leave you to your own devices_.”

“ _Yes_ ” without any shift in that calm. “ _You ought to. Get on your knees._ ”

The assumed dominance in Magie’s tone is arousing enough all by itself; Rail can feel his knees tremor, his body considering following the order even though it’s not meant for him, even though he knows the words are aimed at Schwan even if they’re spoken aloud for his benefit. Schwan apparently agrees; there’s a whimper, high and wanting, and then a dull _thud_ as he apparently drops to his knees without any hesitation in the motion at all.

“ _Good_ ,” Magie says. “ _Bend over. Hands on the floor_.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Schwan’s voice comes, only a little more distant with the shift in his position. Rail can hear the shift of clothing as the other moves, can imagine the dip of Schwan’s spine under his jacket, the spread of his palms pressed flat to the floor under him. “ _Just like that?_ ”

“ _Of course not_.” There’s the sound of fabric again, heavier and more drawn-out this time; Rail imagines Magie working Schwan’s clothes off his hips, pulling the weight of silk and embroidery off the crown prince’s body to leave him as exposed for the other’s gaze as his voice is for Rail’s hearing. Rail takes a breath, filling his lungs as quietly as he can, and lets his fingers slide up to the zipper of his pants so he can work his fly down and open while Magie goes on speaking. “ _I’ll finger you first. Unless you think you can take me without any preparation?_ ”

“ _Maybe I could_ ,” Schwan grumbles. “ _You never let me try_.”

“ _No_ ,” Magie agrees. “ _You wouldn’t be able to walk for days if I did and I don’t relish the thought of explaining why you’re bedridden to the rest of your subjects_.” There’s a _crack_ of sound, skin meeting skin with abrupt force; Schwan gasps a shocked breath at what must have been the weight of Magie’s palm smacking against the curve of his ass. “ _Knees apart_.”

“ _You could just_ ask,” Schwan whines, but he sounds a little bit breathless in spite of his protest. Rail wonders if he’s getting hard again, if the soft weight of his spent cock is stirring between his legs before Magie’s even pushed into him. Under Rail’s hand his pants come open, the weight of them sliding down his hips by an inch as the fastenings loosen; he braces his feet wide apart, steadying himself where he stands before he pushes the edge of his underwear down and off the strain of his cock.

“ _I did_ ,” Magie says with absolute calm. “ _Relax_.”

“ _I_ am _relaxed_ ,” Schwan snaps back. “ _If you would just hurry up and_ \--” and his words break off abruptly, giving way to a gust of an exhale that strains itself into a groan that Rail can feel like electricity down the whole of his spine. “Fuck.”

“ _Relax_ ,” Magie says again. “ _You’re too tight, I can’t open you up when you’re fighting me like this_.”

“ _I’m not_ trying _to_ ,” Schwan says, still sounding strained. Rail stares blankly at the wall in front of him, picturing Schwan on his hands and knees, his pants pushed down his thighs and Magie behind him pushing into the tension of his body with a single slick finger. “ _You’re going too fast_.”

“ _I thought you wanted it fast_ ,” Magie says.

Schwan’s huff of frustration is loud enough that it crackles with static down the phone line. “ _I_ do,” he snaps. “ _But you need to give me--oh_ fuck” as the petulance in his tone caves all at once into a moan of heat in the back of his throat.

“ _Sorry_ ,” Magie says coolly. “ _What was that?_ ”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Schwan says. “ _Do that again, Magie_.”

“ _Do what?_ ” Magie asks, all innocence. “ _I’m sorry, your highness, I’m just an aide, you’ll have to be more clear than that_.”

“ _Fuck_ you,” Schwan snaps. “Fuck me _, you idiot, get your fingers inside me and_ fuck _me properly_.”

“ _Ah_ ,” Magie says, while Rail is tipping forward against the wall in front of him and trying to not groan aloud at the image Schwan’s frantic demand creates in his head. “ _Like this?_ ” On the other end of the line Schwan moans, incoherency forming encouragement in his throat, and Magie hums a noise that veers towards satisfaction instead of the cool calm he’s demonstrated so far.

“ _Yes_ ,” he says, like he’s talking to himself; Rail can almost see the flick of the other’s eyes towards the phone still off its hook, the line still open for Rail to hear the sound of the heir to the kingdom groaning pleasure at the feeling of Magie’s fingers working inside him. Rail closes his hand tight around his cock, down at the base, and draws up in a long stroke as much to stoke the fire in him hotter as to chase down immediate satisfaction. “ _You like this, don’t you, your highness?_ ”

“ _Obviously_ ,” Schwan manages, picking up an edge of frustration for his tone even around the heat audibly cracking in the back of his throat. “ _You can tell, can’t you?_ ”

“ _Yes_ ,” Magie agrees. “ _You clench around me every time I do--_ ” and Schwan wails heat, “ _\--that_.”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Schwan pants. “ _Keep doing that. More. Give me another finger_.”

“ _As you wish_ ,” Magie says, and apparently does exactly that, if the whining gust of Schwan’s exhale is any indication. Rail’s shoulders are tense, his whole body tight on the strain of arousal and guilt and the too-vivid fantasy playing in his mind; but it’s hardly fantasy at all, anymore, with the sound of Schwan’s breathing running so ragged on heat on the other end of the silently open phone line. Rail can picture it in perfect clarity: the pale curve of bare skin, the sheen of sweat clinging to Schwan’s thighs, the part of Magie’s lips and the crease in his forehead as he focuses on what he’s doing. It’s nearly like being there in the room, a silent, unseen observer for what’s happening before him; and then Magie takes a breath, and says, “ _What would you like of me now, your highness?_ ” and Rail has to shut his eyes to let the calm sound of that voice rush over him for the first moment of heat.

Schwan’s huff of an exhale is raw with frustration. “ _What?_ ” he snaps. “ _You know what I want, Magie, are you suddenly going to pretend to be an idiot?_ ”

“ _Tell me_ ,” Magie says again, his voice clear and calm and certain, and Rail can feel the awareness of the other’s words like a touch against the back of his neck, as if Magie is looking straight at him over all the miles of distance between the other pair and Rail himself. “ _Out loud, please, your highness_.”

“ _Fuck you_ ,” Schwan says; but there’s no real bite to the words, just frustrated impatience at having to spell out something patently obvious. “ _I want you to_ fuck _me, Magie, is that clear enough for you to understand?_ ”

“ _Indeed_ ,” Magie says, sounding impressively calm when Rail’s face is going hot just from listening to Schwan’s words. “ _Right now, like this?_ ”

“Yes,” Schwan groans. “ _Just like this, Magie, hurry_ up _and get your cock in me_.”

“ _On your hands and knees_ ,” Magie says, sketching out the details of the scene in perfect clarity for Rail’s imagination. “ _With your clothes around your thighs and your ass in the air_.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Schwan repeats. “Yes _, I don’t care if you fuck me like a_ dog _so long as you hurry up and_ do _it_.”

“ _Very good_ ,” Magie intones, and Rail presses his lips tight together and breathes hard through his nose, trying to stifle the heat of his inhales to silence so they won’t be audible on the other end of the line. He’s moving slow over his cock, his strokes more idle friction than a deliberate seeking out of pleasure, but it doesn’t matter; he can still feel desire knotting in his stomach, can still see the outline of his orgasm shaping itself in the tension of his body just from imagining the scene on the other side of the phone call. “ _Please try to relax, your highness_.”

“ _Easy for you to say_ ,” Schwan grumbles. “ _Always so cool, as if you don’t want this just as much as I do, like you don’t undress me with your eyes every time we’re in a room together_.”

“ _Of course I want this_ ,” Magie says. “ _Anyone would appreciate the view you create, your highness_.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Schwan says. His voice is still pitched high on the edge of frustration but it’s easing; Rail can almost see the tension of bruised feelings unwinding from his shoulders. “ _That’s the sort of image I ought to be presenting_.”

“ _Of course_ ,” Magie says. “ _I’m sure half the kingdom dreams of taking you to bed with them_.”

“ _Why shouldn’t they?_ ” Schwan wants to know. “ _I’d rather that than--_ oh” as his voice jerks up high, suddenly cracking open on strain that blows all the coherency away from his speech. “Magie.”

“ _Your highness_ ,” Magie says; but he sounds strained now, too, some measure of his calm is fraying away. “ _What is your desire?_ ”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Schwan gasps. “ _More, Magie,_ move.”

“ _As you command_ ,” Magie says; and then they both go quiet, speech falling to the wayside in favor of the focused effort of movement. Rail can hear a little of it, if he holds his breath so the hot rush of his inhales doesn’t drown it out: the pant of breathing on the other end of the line, the rustle of clothing, perhaps the faintest slick of wet skin sliding over itself. And he can picture it too clearly, his imagination is well past the bounds of a guilty conscience now: Schwan on his hands and knees, head ducked down so his pale curls curtain his face, lips parted on the gasp of his breathing as Magie kneels behind him to fuck into the heat of his body, the press of his cock driving the beginnings of moans past Schwan’s lips. Rail wonders if Schwan is as hard as he is, by now, wonders if Magie is reaching around to close his fingers around the prince’s cock; or maybe he’s keeping his hold against narrow hips instead, bracing the other still against the slick forward motion of his thrusts. Maybe Schwan has a hand down around himself, stroking up as roughly as Rail is, now, in pursuit of satisfaction; or maybe he’s holding himself to the floor, fingers tensing against the smooth of the tiles beneath him while the flushed heat of his cock twitches untouched towards the rumple of his clothes over his stomach with each of Magie’s movements.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Schwan moans, high and desperate and pleading, “ _Magie_ ” and Rail leans hard against the wall in front of him, squeezing his eyes shut tight and clutching the phone to his ear with the same desperate force moving his hand up over himself, pulling sensation hot and liquid into his veins with every stroke he takes. “ _Magie, fuck, harder, please,_ Magie.”

“ _I know_ ,” Magie says, and his voice is sharp, now, it’s carrying an edge on it clear enough to cut. “ _I am_.”

“ _You’re_ not,” Schwan wails, even though Rail can hear the rhythm of Magie’s movements in the catch of the other’s voice, can hear Schwan’s breath giving way with how hard Magie must be driving into him. “ _More, damn it, Magie, I want to_ come _, I can’t..._ more.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Magie says, a gasp of breathless heat at the back of his throat. “ _Your highness_.”

“More,” Schwan says again, but it’s almost a scream, this time, Rail can hear his voice skidding out at the upper edge of his range. “Damn _you, Magie, if you come before I do I’ll...I’ll have you--_ ” and he breaks off, his voice dropping all the way back down again as he groans a heat-saturated, helpless note. “ _Oh fuck, right there, don’t stop Magie_ don’t _stop_.”

“ _I’m not_ ,” Magie says, “ _I won’t_ ” but Schwan isn’t listening, isn’t calming:

“ _Fuck_ ,” sharp and raw, and “Fuck,” clear enough to crackle static around itself. “ _Oh god Magie, I’m going to come, I swear just keep going I’m going to...I’m going…_ ” and Schwan takes a huge inhale, a gasping lungful of air like he’s trying to suck all the air from the room at once. Rail catches a breath, feels the strain of it hard in his chest and hot under his grip; and then “ _Oh_ fuck,” Schwan moans, and Rail spasms into orgasm right there, gasping himself into heat as his cock jerks in his grip and spills wet over his tight-clenched fingers. On the other end of the line Schwan is wailing pleasure, all but screaming through the throes of whatever heat has gripped him; if Rail listens for it he can hear even Magie’s composure slipping, can hear the gasp of the other’s breathing over the wet sound of him fucking hard into Schwan before him. Schwan is gasping, babbling Magie’s name like a prayer, like a plea, like a curse; and then Magie catches an inhale, and says “ _Oh_ ,” very clearly, and Rail shudders with a last aftershock of heat as he listens to Magie coming into the crown prince of the country.

Rail stays still for a minute after, with the phone pressed to his ear and his heart beating so hard he’s sure it must be audible on the other end of the line. Surely one of them heard something, Magie or Schwan either one; but there’s no sound of protest from the prince, just breathless panting from where he must be sprawled on the floor, and it’s a long moment before Magie says anything at all. Rail is considering hanging up, cutting off the line while he can still tell himself he went unobserved; and then Magie takes a breath, and when he speaks Rail can hear every word with perfect clarity.

“ _You are a pleasure to the country, your highness_.” Magie’s voice is careful, deliberate over every syllable, and Rail is sure, absolutely, that the words are not intended for Schwan. “ _I would share you across all the districts, if I could_.”

Rail’s face goes hot, his skin prickles with electricity as if Magie had reached out across all the miles of distance and touched him. He takes a breath, hears it catch loud against the microphone at his lips; and then he reaches out to hang up, immediately, before he can hear anything else of Schwan’s heat-shaky petulance or Magie’s knowing implication.

He isn’t sure which is more alarming: what he’s just been party to, or that he finds himself already hoping it happens again.


End file.
